


my california king

by sakkakitty, stealthsuit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, POV Multiple, Sharing a Bed, Stubborn Steve Rogers, Stubborn Tony Stark, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 01:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14321199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakkakitty/pseuds/sakkakitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealthsuit/pseuds/stealthsuit
Summary: Steve looks at the clock. It’s 11 o’clock and the left side of their bed is empty. Again. Because Tony’s down in the lab. Again. Third time too and last time, Tony literally fell asleep at his desk. They went over this already, didn’t they? Steve does have superhuman memory so he’s pretty sure they did, but Tony just has to be Tony and stay downstairs. Again. He sighs and sits up, swinging his feet off the edge of the bed. Steve doesn’t know which is worse, going down there and finding Tony tinkering away at his gadgets or finding him asleep there. He tucks his feet into his slippers and heads down to the basement.





	my california king

**Author's Note:**

> written for the mcu stony bingo! fill for stubbornness. title from rihanna's california king bed, not as angsty though.

Tony rubs the furrow between his brows with two fingers, grimacing slightly as he stares at the hologram in front of him. It had been making sense twenty hours ago when he had first started, but the numbers are starting to fuzz at the edges and his brain’s jumping the track a little bit.

Oh well. Nothing that coffee can’t fix.

He rolls his chair back, running his hands through his hair as he shuffles over to the coffee machine hooked up in the little kitchenette next to his cot. DUM-E beeps curiously, his arm twitching up to assist, and Tony grumbles and swats him away.

“I’m only allowed to be poisoned once a year or Pepper will yell at me,” Tony says, ignoring the bot as it beeps again and lowers its arm, rolling back and away towards its corner. Tony huffs out a sigh and returns to his chair, sinking into it as he inhales scalding liquid, ignoring the burn as he stares at the screens.

“M’kay, JARVIS, pull up the first prototype for me one more time.”

“Right away, Sir.”

Time passes after that in a pleasant blur. The coffee helps oil the gears in his brain enough to remember why he wrote notes along the edge of his blueprints, but to his annoyance, he has a feeling he’s still running at half capacity regardless. He has done much more with less, and he just knows he’s going soft because of all of those nights sleeping next to Steve. That bastard. It’s probably his plan the whole time. A normal sleep schedule? Tony shudders at the thought.

Well. He doesn’t need sleep to be a genius, and he certainly doesn’t need _Steve_ for that either. Huffing, he hunkers down at his desk, ignoring the crick starting in his neck and the burn building just behind his eyes...

He wakes up slowly, feeling well rested and content. He sighs and settles into his pillows, smiling at the faint scent of Steve on the sheets, before he sit up, startled. His bleary eyes wanders over to the clock by their bed table and he let out a groan, flopping back into the nests of pillows and rubbing a hand over his face.

Tony really is ruined.

 

***

 

Steve looks at the clock. It’s 11 o’clock and the left side of their bed is empty. Again. Because Tony’s down in the lab. Again. Third time too and last time, Tony literally fell asleep at his desk. They went over this already, didn’t they? Steve does have superhuman memory so he’s pretty sure they did, but Tony just has to be Tony and stay downstairs. Again. He sighs and sits up, swinging his feet off the edge of the bed. Steve doesn’t know which is worse, going down there and finding Tony tinkering away at his gadgets or finding him asleep there. He tucks his feet into his slippers and heads down to the basement.

He opens the door and winces. Jesus, who can listen to music this loud? Steve cups his ears as he walks down the stairs. “Tony?” he calls over the music. Well, he knows he’s trying to at least. It’s hard to tell which is louder with the cacophony that threatens to break his eardrums.

It’s just like getting out of the chamber in his new body all over again, trying to figure how to walk in balance. Steve finally gets to the bottom of the stairs sans injury. He looks to the glass doors to Tony’s lab and frowns. Tony’s not asleep again, not like the other night, but it seems like he’s getting there. To any other person, Tony may have seemed fine, but Steve knows his body now. He knows it well and Tony’s sluggish in his movements as he bounces from one table to another. They’re all covered in spare parts and tools. Steve can’t make sense of them.

He lowers his hands, wincing at the loud music. Steve doesn’t understand the 21st Century and all the Leds and the Zeppelins. How can anybody focus with such chaotic music on? His super hearing certainly doesn’t help. He makes a mental note to show Tony music from the good old days, The Ink Spots and Buddy Rich. Much more soothing.

Steve places his palm flat against the scanner. The glass door slides aside for him. He walks over to the stereo and scans for the volume control. Last time, he yanked out the cords to turn it off. And well, Tony didn’t like that very much. He twists the knob down until he can’t anymore.

“That’s much better,” he says.

“Rogers, what the hell?” Tony protests. He gets up from his chair. Well, he _tries_ to get up from his chair. There’s a beginning, certainly, but he collapses forward, his arms catching the table.

Steve’s already halfway there, noticing the weight on Tony’s shoulders from the lack of sleep before he even makes a move. He has his hands under Tony’s armpit and holds the man, lowering him back into the chair.

“Rogers, please. I don’t have the time to roleplay as your damsel in distress right now,” Tony says, getting up again. He grabs the chair and stops in his tracks, wavering in his stance.

“Don’t,” Steve says, his eyebrows furrowing. “How long have you been here?”

The dark bags under Tony’s eyes are almost big enough to be classified as an entirely new organ. And speaking of Tony’s eyes, he can barely keep them open, his eyelids shaking in the effort to keep up. Tony turns away from him, uncharacteristically silent.

“Come on, Tony,” Steve says. “Are you planning to sleep down here again?”

Tony snaps his fingers and points to a corner of the lab. Steve follows his hand and frowns.

“It’s been there this whole time,” Tony says, answering Steve’s silent question. “Didn’t appreciate waking up in a different place last time.”

“I thought you’d be more comfortable,” Steve says, his voice barely audible to his own ears. Was that a mistake then? He crosses his arms, the V between his eyebrows pinching.

“It’s just another waste of time, having to get down here,” Tony says, dismissively.

Steve tries to not let it bother him. He understands that Tony has his work, but it’s a nice system to wake up to each other every morning.

“You never did answer my question,” he says. “How long have you been down here?”

“Hmm. 49 hours maybe.” Tony waves his hand nonchalantly.

“49 hours?!” Steve shakes his head. “I can’t even do 49 hours and _I’m_ the one with the superserum. How are you still alive?”

“I’ve done longer.” Tony shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Steve repeats, his voice nearly a shriek. He clears his throat. “I didn’t pay a whole lot attention when I was in school and maybe what people learn is different now, but even I know 49 hours straight without sleeping is dangerous. Do you care about your health at all?” Steve rubs his arms. It doesn’t sit well with him, knowing this is how Tony treats himself.

“This is much more important,” Tony says. “My health can take it.”

“Tony, you’ll drop dead if you continue this. Don’t be so stubborn.”

Tony shoots him a _look_ and Steve rolls his eyes. Sure, he of all people probably shouldn’t be saying that, but Tony’s taking the cake in acts of stubbornness. 49 hours. What kind of man—?

“I’ll be fine, Grandpa,” Tony sasses. “I have JARVIS and the coffee pot.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart?” Steve asks. “Aren’t smart people not stupid enough to ruin their health?”

“Double negative,” Tony chirps. He places a hand on his chest. “I have _responsibilities_ , Rogers. Responsibilities that wait for no one so can you—”

“You’re been working non-stop for 49 hours,” Steve says heatedly. “Anybody who’s waiting for that are asleep right now. You’re allowed to take a rest.”

Steve doesn’t _whine,_ but he comes close. He’s so tired of this. He’s so tired of seeing Tony tired and not in bed. _Their_ bed. He misses Tony’s body heat, misses wrapping his arms around Tony and knowing that he’s _there._ It had scared him, Steve’s embarrassed to admit—even in his own head—to wake up the other morning to find Tony gone.

He gets out of his head. Tony’s still tinkering away at whatever he’s doing and Steve knows it’s a futile effort now to convince Tony to go upstairs with him. Force won’t help either. He had only gotten away with carrying the man because he was asleep.

Steve sighs. “Promise me that you’ll go to sleep,” he says, a last resort for tonight.

Tony snaps his fingers and points to the cot again. Steve huffs. It’s no king bed, not like the one they have in the bedroom. How can Tony be comfortable in that small thing? He shakes his head and starts heading out the lab.

“Oh!” Tony exclaims.

Steve whips his head around, pausing at the doorway.

“Can you turn back on the music for me?” Tony asks.

Steve sighs again.

 

***

 

Tony takes a sip of the coffee sitting by his elbow. It’s cold, and obviously burnt, but he can’t care less. This little sleepless streak is getting ready to hit 58 hours, and whatever’s left of his brain is going towards his work, not towards good coffee.

It also helps that Tony wants to prove Steve wrong. That’s a better motivator than any coffee he can buy. Tony never claims he isn’t childish; the opposite in fact, and Steve should know that. If he pushes, there’s no way in hell Tony’s gonna topple over, no sir. It’s part of what makes their chemistry so delicious.

Even knowing how satisfied he’ll be when Steve relents, he can’t quite smother the tiny part of him that misses stumbling up to bed. Steve always seems so pleased, even if he’s asleep, and it’s… nice, being wanted like that.

But Steve has to go and be an asshole and now he needs to prove a point. What a dick. Really, why are they fucking again?

He grumbles and forces his wandering thoughts away from Steve and towards his work. That’s why he was down here after all; creating world changing technology took time and commitment and genius, all things Tony has and can use.

He makes sure his music’s up to a nice skull splitting volume, and loses himself in the shuddering of the music through his chest and the soft murmur of JARVIS as they work together on his latest project. Perfect.

He’s just getting in the zone when he hears a thudding outside of his workshop. Jesus, whatever that is has to be loud enough to pierce his little slice of heaven, and that is _too damn loud._ Tony knows; he’s practically the inventor of obnoxious noise.

Tony swivels in his chair, already glaring at the door to his workshop, before he sputters in surprise.

“JARVIS, turn off the music,” Tony says, staring as Steve catches his eye through the curtain of sheets bracketing his face. Steve grins, a stubborn look on his face as he finally hits the last step of the stairs, tugging their _giant California King mattress_ down the last few steps and towards the workshop doors. Tony briefly entertains the idea of locking Steve out, but he knows there’s a large chance the man will sweet talk JARVIS into letting him in, and then he’ll have a doubly smug Steve on his hands.

“Cap, when I said we should spice up our life in the bedroom, I didn’t mean we should move our bedroom to some place more exciting. I mean, workshop sex would be great, maybe a little messy, but you always did like me a little messy—” Tony begins, rambling away as he watches Steve set his jaw and drag the mattress all the way over until it’s laying next to Tony’s desk.

“No, but really, what the hell?” Tony asks, resting his chin on his fist as he watches Steve straighten up and brush imaginary wrinkles out of his sleep clothes. He wears a self satisfied smile, as if he has already won, and it makes Tony grimace. There’s nothing good about that smile… except maybe that one time—

“If you won’t come up to bed, then I’ll come down to you,” Steve says, throwing the sheets back and sliding onto their mattress. Tony watches, his eyebrows raised as Steve wiggles to get comfortable before turning on his side to stare up at Tony. He pulls the covers up to his chin, and Tony can’t help but snort; he looks ridiculous. There’s no way Captain America’s allowed to look that petulant while doing something as asinine as sleep in the middle of Tony’s workshop.

“You are ridiculously stubborn, you know that?” Tony drawls and Steve arches an eyebrow at him, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Pot, kettle,” Steve says, his voice already a little thick with sleep. He looks really comfortable, his eyes half-lidded as he watches Tony, his breathing slowing, even as DUM-E rolls by and picks up one corner of the sheets and start tugging on them lightly.

Tony scowls, refusing to be charmed. It’s going to take a lot more than Steve looking sleepy and content in their bed for him to be distracted from his precious work.

“Well, good luck sleeping, I’m not gonna be quiet,” Tony threatens, turning back towards his holograms with a stubborn grimace on his face. He hears Steve chuckle, warm and fond.

“‘S okay, used to ya snorin’ after all,” Steve says, the Brooklyn twang becoming more pronounced as he yawns. Tony scoffs, both to protest and to ignore the affectionate feeling settling just below his ribs.

“Well, it sounds like you’d be better off without me there anyways, if that’s the case,” Tony says, unable to keep out slight bitterness to his words. _Fuck_. Steve’s really good at working him over. He hears the other man shift on their mattress and he refuses to look, knowing Steve will be pulling out his puppy dog eyes, knowing Tony won’t be able to resist them.

“But I sleep better with ya’ Tony. ‘S why I came down. Even just hearing ya’s nice,” Steve says softly, and Tony groans, rubbing his face and pressing his fingers into his eyes.

“I’m dating the sappiest man alive. Where is your dignity, Rogers?” Tony asks, finally rolling his head over to look over at Steve and he sighs. The puppy dog eyes are out in full force and damn it, he’s really fucked.

“Don’ need it if it convinces ya to come to bed,” Steve says, pulling the covers back and smiling softly. It’s partially teasing, but it’s also mildly pleading and fuck him, that bastard. He sighs, and can see the exact moment where Steve realizes he’s relenting. He smirks, and Tony glares, stabbing a finger at him.

“Not a word,” Tony threatens. Steve mimes zipping his lips with a grin, and Tony squints at him warningly. He stumbles out of his chair, blinking hard as his world tilts dangerously for a moment. He rights himself and shuffles over, before crumpling down onto the mattress, grumbling a little bit as soon as Steve’s arm comes down to claim him, tugging him until his back hits his chest.

“Damn octopus,” he complains, but Steve just hums in agreement, shoving his nose into the hair on the back of his neck. Against his will, Tony feels his muscles relaxing as the past few days begin to catch up to him in a rush. He lets out a sigh, and Steve tightens his arm around his middle.

“Wouldn’ be so stuck on ya if ya’d been comin’ up to bed—” Steve begins and Tony grumbles, weakly elbowing him in the side.

“I’m here now, so shut up and sleep, Rogers,” Tony grunts, and he feels Steve smile into the nape of his neck, but he seems to listen to him, settling down behind him and falling quiet, his chest rising and falling in a soothing rhythm that Tony can feel himself matching.

With sleep taking him under and Steve’s breath warm and steady on the back of his neck, Tony can’t help but think maybe being completely ruined isn’t such a bad thing.

 


End file.
